


Post-Retirement Activities

by florahart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Endgame, end of the line, shut up I like sap, teenyfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18824554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Sam has the shield, and Steve has ideas.





	Post-Retirement Activities

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, there are things I like about grandpa!Steve and all, but still, one of the big emotional arcs for Steve is Bucky, and I didn't feel great about that being sort of left hanging. Also, I thought about making this into a whole big complicated story because I want to READ that whole story, but ugh, it would take me forever. But I still wanted to put the concept forth, so teenyfic it is.

Bucky waits until Sam walks away, hefting the shield and shaking his head, then ambles over to the bench and sits down. "You know he's going to be impossible, right?"

"Yeah, well, it won't be anything new. Nobody signs up for flying experimental shit without being a little arrogant, little cocky, maybe a little nuts."

"As opposed to flying an experimental body?"

"Hey now. I had Nazis to fight." 

"Uh huh." They sit quietly for a minute, then Bucky says, "So, is this the end of that line, then? Are you here because--"

Steve makes a snorting noise that seems too big for a body that isn't so bulky any more. "Not if it's up to me, no. Why, you think I can't still take you?"

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "You look like a guy who's ready to putter in a flower garden for his golden years."

"Oh, no, that part's true. Still pretty tough, but I heal a little slower now, probably can't still curl up on the shield and survive a drop from a couple hundred feet."

"Good to know."

"Sixty feet, probably. That's why it's time to pass the shield, but it's not the only reason."

Bucky waits. He was never good at waiting, when they were young, but he's had a lot of practice.

"See, soldiers are supposed to get to retire. Something about a vine and a fig tree, in the shade..."

"If you're gonna break into song and sing the role of George Washington, I'm gonna point out that is the character's last appearance in the damned musical, so you're not really arguing against the end of the line."

Steve chuckles. "Buck, seriously, I'm talking about retiring. The Captain can continue, and should, but I'm..." He stops and mimes counting on his fingers. "...carry the two... I'm about a hundred and twelve years old in lived time, little less by the calendar."

"So I should, what, go follow the new Cap around?" Bucky knows he sounds petulant, but he has a good excuse; he's been either a child or a mind-wiped murderer for the huge majority of his maybe thirty (?) years of 'lived time'.

"Can if you want—you're young—but I'm hoping you'll make an old man happy and keep me company for a while."

Bucky squints at him. "And do what? Am I supposed to be the muscle for this gardening project?"

"I was thinking of something a little more collaborative." Steve stands up, no creaking or cracking to be heard, and holds out his hand. "But right now, I think I'll go back to my apartments at the tower, which I assume have remained in place for the twenty minutes-slash-seventy years I've been gone. Come with me?"

Bucky doesn't really know what to do with that, but there's a glint in Steve's eye that reminds him of, well, a hundred other glints in Steve's eye, and he's always been a sucker for that look. So he stands up. "Do you, uh. My ma raised a polite boy, and if you were any other hundred and twelve year old I'd offer you my elbow or something while you shuffle along."

Steve tucks a hand into his elbow and nods. "Sure thing. I'm not all that shuffley, but I don't want anyone getting the idea I'm still ready to march into battle." They walk past Bruce (that is never going to stop being weird, although probably at one point he thought that about the arm and he's used to it now) and past where Sam is still a little lost in marveling at the shield, and make their way to the tower elevator. 

Once in, Steve takes back his hand and straightens up a little, and Bucky frowns at him. "Did you just get taller?"

"Mmno," Steve says. "Why?"

Bucky looks him up and down suspiciously, but takes him home, tucks a blanket around him, and flops down on the couch next to him. "What are we watching?"

Steve clicks on the remote and finds some documentary on frog biology (why) and settles in.

Bucky suffers through eight minutes, which he thinks is _extremely_ respectful of his elder, and reaches for the remote.

Which Steve keeps away from him. 

He reaches harder.

Steve keeps it away, pushing at Bucky with, oh what the hell, muscles that still feel pretty damn super soldiery. 

Finally, he relaxes away, then surges forward again suddenly, and momentum carries him around but Steve goddamn catches him around the waist and there he is, sitting sprawled astraddle the lap of a centenarian superhero who's grinning at him like the little shit he was in 1932. "Stevie, what the fuck."

"Didn't know how else to pick a fight with your ma's polite boy." He exerts a little pressure with his big hands wrapped around Bucky's waist. "I figured frogs would do it."

"I'm beginning to think you are an asshole."

"Buck, this cannot possibly be new information."

"You are the opposite of frail."

"I _said_ I could still take you."

"Are you actually a hundred and twelve?"

"Yep. Heal slower, tolerate less abuse, currently have the stamina of a man in his early forties. Ish. Wanna help me test that?"

"Your stamina?"

"Uh-huh." Steve looks up and goddamn _winks_ , and Bucky has always been a sucker for that, too so there's really not a question here. Steve is still Steve, and Bucky's already used to seeing him for himself underneath whatever body he's in. He lets himself be reeled in, and lets Steve kiss him breathless.

Apparently somewhere in the last several decades, his boy has acquired some _skills_. It might be in part because the last time they kissed, really _kissed_ , was in probably 1943 and in the mud, but it can't be _all_ that. He gasps something to that effect, and Steve laughs and says it's nice to have his breadth of experience appreciated, then stands up and drags Bucky off to bed.

Bucky thinks about the breadth of experience comment while Steve is stripping the clothes off him and working on killing him with his mouth and momentarily considers being jealous, but then he decides he can be jealous or he can be really fucking glad about every iota of what's happening here and there was a lot of his life where glad wasn't an option. He goes with glad.

–

When the sun wakes him, Bucky opens his eyes slowly. The sheets are a disaster around his waist and one leg and he's almost positive they're going to have to do something to reinforce the bed because there was definitely some partial splintering of the frame at one point, but Steve is still there, skin a little papery but still golden, fine silvery hairs on his chest and belly shining in the sun. 

Bucky takes his time looking, letting his eyes wander over still-firm abs, up the broad chest, the scruff growing in, the sharp jawline and nose, and... "Motherfucker, you are _such_ a little shit."

Steve opens his eyes and blinks, then shrugs when Bucky gestures at his face. "Seriously would you have believed me? I couldn't keep not-aging all that time and Peg kept getting accused of robbing the cradle. So, we... improvised." He puts his hands behind his head. "Finding a plastic surgeon to do the work wasn't that hard, once I pointed out it would be a steady stream of income since I'd constantly 'heal' and undo the changes."

"And you're going to keep it up, aren't you?"

"Peg always figured when I came back to you I wouldn't, but, well. Yes. I really actually can't take the punishment any more, but also, I don't want people getting ideas. I probably look, I don't know, forty-eight now without retouching?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I would have bet my left nut my life wasn't going to get any weirder."

"Can't have that. I like that one." Steve reaches out and pulls Bucky against his chest. "So. You in?"

"Christ. Yeah, yeah, end of the line, fine." Bucky scrubs his flesh hand over his face, then purses his lips. "It occurs to me this would be fantastic blackmail material, though."

"Oh, it really would. However, I'm willing to work off my debt, so I think we can come to an arrangement."

"Not that I'd actually sell you out, you understand."

"Of course not." Steve grins fondly. "But if you want, we can play-act the scene where I have to tie you up to keep you from telling the world."

Bucky shivers. 

Steve has, it seems, a lifetime of ideas, nowhere to be, and a willing victim. Oh, this is going to be _fun_.


End file.
